Tark Floyd
by Kenyai
Summary: The story of a man who has been screwed over all of his life, and how he contributes to the fight against the Zerg. R&R, please.
1. The Demotion

This is my first fanfic, so be gentle and all that. If you don't like Zero Wing, just replace those lines with other, random nonsense.  
  
-Kenyai  
  
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Chapter 1: The Demotion  
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Corporal Tark Floyd tapped the control panel out of boredom. The last time anything exciting had happened was on April Fool's day... That thought brought a chuckle out of Floyd. Life was interesting back then, before he was transferred. He actually had friends then.  
  
Life hadn't been easy for him then, either, but it was better then than it was now. He never had gotten a good education, so he joined the military. That's all he could do with his life. He wasn't exactly attractive, and his personality was a dull one, so he didn't have much luck with love. He had female friends, but they were all platonic. And they were also on some backwater planet. All of his friends were. And here he was, stuck in one of the most boring positions on a battlecruiser. What was its name? Oh yes, it was called the "Mogg Sentry". Odd name, for a ship.  
  
Floyd looked over at his so-called assistant, Jeff Garb. The only time he did anything useful was when he needed to look good. He was due for a promotion, and Floyd bet Garb was going to take his place, and soon.  
  
A cheesy explosion sound effect played over the intercom.  
  
"What happen?" Floyd asked, his poor grammar skills, and lack of education, were as evident as ever. This wasn't like any drill he'd ever been through. But it definitely didn't sound real, either.  
  
"Somebody set up us the bomb.. We get signal," Floyd's assistant, Garb, mumbled.  
  
Floyd didn't understand Garb and seemed flustered. "What?" Was Garb turning stupid? He never talked like that. It was probably a mockery of Floyd's own speech.  
  
Garb was too busy going through transmission procedures to listen to Floyd. "Main screen, turn on." he commanded. The system accepted the order and the large screen between Floyd and Garb lit up, and Sergeant Hyde's face faded in.  
  
Floyd was relieved, seeing his sergeant's face, "It's you." Maybe it was real, after all. Maybe this would be a chance to prove his skills, when it counted. Floyd was ready for this. He smiled.  
  
Floyd's sergeant wasn't smiling back. "How are you gentlemen?" That seemed like an odd thing for Hyde to ask. Before Floyd could respond, Sgt. Hyde continued. "All your base are belong to us. You are on the way to destruction."  
  
What? Okay, this was getting pretty damn strange. Was Sgt. Hyde infested? Perplexed, Floyd questioned, "What you say?"  
  
Sgt. Hyde grinned and coolly remarked, "You have no chance to survive make your time... Hahahaha."  
  
Floyd shook his head in anger, realizing this was one of those practical jokes his squad always played on him. He wondered what command would have to say about this unauthorized transmission. No, Hyde wouldn't risk being in trouble for that, would he? Maybe he really was going to give him orders...  
  
"For great justice, take off every zig. Move zig, move zig, move zig, move zig, you know what you doing, take off every zig. Move zig, move zig, move zig, move zig, you know what you doing, take off every zig. Move zig, move zig, move zig, move zig, for great justice, take off every zig. Move zig, move zig, move zig, move zig, you know what you doing, take off every zig." Hyde ordered.  
  
Floyd stared at the screen for a while, confused again, until Hyde and Garb began laughing simultaneously. Hyde's face turned into scramble, and Garb turned off the main screen, still chuckling. Floyd buried his face in his hands.  
  
Garb chortled, "Hahaha.. You fall for all of our jokes. The only time you were smart enough to avoid one was when we messed it up and blew our own cover. It's sad, really." He was too happy. Just pulling this joke on him wouldn't make him this glad.  
  
"You speak when ordered, Garb!" Floyd yelled. Damn him, damn the sergeant, damn this situation. Why was Floyd here? Why did they torment him all the time? It must've been some sort of entertainment for them, a way to pass their time. It was getting unbearable, however. It had to stop.  
  
Garb went back to monitoring for 'real' transmissions, still chuckling. A faked surprised look appeared on his face. "Uh, sir.. There's another transmission coming, and this wasn't part of the joke, I swear."  
  
Floyd nodded, "Main screen turn on."  
  
It was Captain McGonnerson, and he was in a bad mood. "Where is Corporal Tark Floyd?" he snapped. He was really in a bad mood, but it wasn't about this...  
  
Floyd stuttered, "R-right here, sir. What you need?" Damnit, he was sounding stupid to the captain.  
  
Capt. McGonnerson rolled his eyes and stated, "You are relieved of your post. I detected an unauthorized transmission coming directly from your station. You will quit immediately. You have been reassigned to the 8th Blue Marine Squad. I will expect you to be at the Marine Training facility within a half-hour."  
  
Floyd felt a lump in his throat. So, Garb had called the sergeant, and made it look like an incoming transmission. "S-sir.. I didn't have anything to do with the transmission. It was my assistant, Jeff Garb."  
  
Jeff glared at Floyd, then turned to the screen, "Sir, he is obviously lying. You and I can both see that. I'm sure you have other, more important matters to attend to, so I won't stall you."  
  
Captain McGonnerson shook his head. "I don't care whose fault it was, private, but you are right about me being busy. You sound capable enough, take Corporal Floyd's position. I have a feeling you're better suited to it." Captain McGonnerson ended the transmission, and Garb turned off the screen.  
  
Floyd sat still, staring at the screen in disbelief.  
  
Garb ordered, suddenly Floyd's superior, "You heard the Captain. You have a half-hour to get to the Training Facility. Get going, private." He stressed the word 'private'.  
  
Garb had planned this.  
  
Floyd shook his head, the lump in his throat hardening. No apology? Just a 'thank you, get going, private'? That wasn't right. That didn't make sense. Too cruel. In one minute, his whole life turned upside down. Everything he had achieved in his career, gone.  
  
Garb repeated irritatedly, "Private. Get your ass to the Marine Training facility. If I have to repeat myself again, you're finished." Garb was staring at Floyd, trying his hardest to keep from bursting out into laughter.  
  
"Yes sir." Floyd responded. 


	2. Training

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Chapter 2: Training  
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How could Garb have done this to him? That bastard. Floyd was going to get even someday, and he was going to see that backstabber burn in hell. He glanced to his right.  
  
This is the quarters for the 8-Blues, so the training facility should be the next door down on the right. He reached the door to the training facility. He had passed this door so many times before, always glad he wasn't going through it. Now he was.  
  
It seemed odd that there was a training facility onboard a battleship, but apparently it did a good job, or else it would be gone. Floyd stood in front of the door and the computer recognized him. "Place your palm on the sensor pad to your right," the computer ordered in a feminine voice. Floyd had already done so. The door whisked open, and the computer made a beep sound. "Access granted, Private Floyd."  
  
Private Floyd.  
  
Floyd walked into the training room and the door whisked close again behind him. He looked around, seeing the inside of the training center for the first time. The facility wasn't exactly as the rumors described, but was still frightening in its own way. There was the outer area that served as a waiting room, and then there was the small section in the center, where the actual training took place. The windows on the walls of the small center chamber were tinted from the outside, but absolutely reflective on the inside. There were people in uniforms that monitored the trainees' performances, and provided occasional medical help, called 'monitors'.  
  
Floyd walked up to a window not being used by the monitors and peeked in. The room seemed barren, dark, and relatively small. A trainee was standing inside with standard marine armor and Gauss rifle. The actual training process hadn't begun. Floyd felt a tap on his right shoulder, and he turned around. One of the training monitors was pointing towards two trainees sitting in a corner of the room. Floyd walked over.  
  
They were chuckling as they turned around to see Floyd. One of them said "Hey, man. My name's Kirby Borsen. Did you just join up?"  
  
Floyd started to answer, then caught himself. "Yeah. Just joined. I from the science vessel near here," he lied. "My name Tark Floyd." He sat down in one of the seats, and realized how much this battleship cared about a marine's comfort. He dreaded finding out how the quarters looked.  
  
The other man snickered, "Haha, I see why they put you in as a marine. Not the sharpest tool in the shed, are we? Did you go to grammar school? I think-"  
  
He was cut off by Kirby, "Shut up, jackass. He chose to be a marine." Kirby looked at Floyd. "Right?"  
  
Floyd nodded, "Yes, I figure I shoot Zerg up good." This was getting sad, but it was too late to try to regain his old position now. He was going to be a marine.  
  
"Right on, that's an attitude. We'll send those zerg to hell." Kirby grinned.  
  
Gunfire was heard from inside the smaller room where Floyd had seen the suited trainee. Floyd could've sworn he heard a zergling cry out and fall over. The smaller room's door opened, and the newly trained marine walked out. A monitor nodded to the marine and he walked out of the facility.  
  
"Well, that's been two successfully trained marines for our squad. Who's next? If no one else wants to go, I will." Kirby stated.  
  
Floyd nodded to Kirby, "You go. Good luck, friend."  
  
Kirby chuckled and responded, "Nah, I don't need luck. If I've got a gun and armor, I can handle anything they throw at me." He walked over to be fitted with his equipment.  
  
The man that had insulted Floyd apologized, "Sorry about before, I'm just kinda mad that they sent me here. I thought I was gonna be a corporal. I'm Frank. Frank Grado." He extended his hand toward Floyd. Floyd took it and shook it, smiling.  
"It fine. I admit my speech sucks. But it psychological thing." He then turned back around to see Kirby walk into the small room.  
Frank nodded, then mumbled, "I wonder what happens in there.. Do they send a real 'ling at ya or somethin'? Man, that'd be rough."  
  
After a few seconds, gunfire was heard once more. A human scream rang out from inside the room. Floyd grimaced. A monitor chuckled as a full-fledged marine walked out of the chamber, unharmed. He was laughing.  
  
Kirby walked back over to Floyd. "Did I scare ya? Hahaha.."  
  
"Heh. Your scream fake?" Floyd asked.  
  
Kirby responded, "Yep. They sent a real 'ling at me, but he was injured already. I dodged the thing as it lunged at me, then smacked the sonofabitch on its noggin." A monitor told him to proceed to his quarters. "Okay, cya soon Floyd."  
  
Floyd waved, "Bye."  
  
As Kirby was walking out, a wide-eyed woman brushed past him. "Is this the training facility?" she asked, looking at Floyd.  
  
"Yes." Floyd answered, not sounding stupid, for once.  
  
The woman sighed, relieved, and sat down as Frank got up to go into the chamber. "Wish me luck, buddy," he said to Floyd. The woman looked down at the floor, nervous.  
  
"Good luck, friend. Go kill zergling." Floyd smiled.  
  
Frank nodded, "Will do." He walked over to the fitters.  
  
Floyd turned to the woman. "Hi. So, you going to be in my squad.."  
  
She looked away from the floor and to Floyd, "Yeah. Er.. My name's Jenn." She looked slightly scared.  
  
Floyd nodded, "My name Tark Floyd. I came from nearby science vessel."  
  
"Oh." She looked back down at the floor.  
  
"You nervous as I am? I hope I don't screw up." He twiddled his fingers.  
  
Gunfire. A zergling scream. A human yelp.  
  
Floyd turned around and looked at the area where the small chamber was. A monitor was opening the seal, running in with a med-pack. After a few seconds, Frank walked out of the chamber, out of breath. His armor had a dent in it, but he seemed to be okay.  
  
"Man, he almost got me. Just a few more inches, and.." Frank trailed off. The monitor who had healed him walked out of the chamber and told him to move on. Frank nodded to Floyd, then walked out.  
  
Floyd stood up, trying to gather up his courage.  
  
"Good luck," Jenn said.  
  
"Thanks," Floyd responded. He walked over and one of the fitters took a few measurements then barked a double-digit number at the other fitter, who went to get a piece of armor. The first fitter picked up a gauss rifle, loaded it, and waited. The other fitter came back with a set of armor, which Floyd quickly slipped on. He put on his helmet and was handed his rifle. This was it.  
  
He stepped into the chamber and the door was sealed behind him. He looked at all of the mirrors nervously. He heard a lurch of machinery, as if something was being shifted. Then silence. Floyd got into a ready stance, and stared at the door at the opposite end of the chamber. There was a whoosh of air, and the door opened.  
  
What?! A hydra?? Floyd fired into its gut, but it seemed unscratched. It reared its head back, preparing to spit, but Floyd was ready, and he rolled to his left as the hydra flung its acid, missing. Floyd fired at the back of its head twice, as it turned around, preparing to spit again. Floyd jumped over it as it spit, missing him by 2 inches. He then jumped onto the hydralisk's back and fired repeatedly into it. It brought its claws back to swipe at him, but he dodged the blind strikes. The hydralisk soon fell.  
  
Danger. The hydralisk. Hydralisk? It's dead.  
  
Floyd looked down, breathing heavily, and kicked the hydralisk. The door he had come in through opened once again. A monitor checked him to see if he was hurt, then dragged the hydralisk's corpse over to a chute. Another monitor shook his head, approaching Floyd.  
  
"Your reflexes are unbelievable, soldier. You're going to be the leader of your squad, understand?" The monitor placed a badge on Floyd's chest. "Only five percent of the trainees that face hydralisks survive. Congratulations. You're dismissed."  
  
Floyd began making his way to the 8-Blues' quarters. Wow. Five percent? What just happened there? Why did they pick him to- Oh. Captain McGonnerson had undoubtedly ordered them to make him the one to face a hydra. Floyd snickered at what the captain's reaction would be when he discovered that he had survived. Floyd touched the badge just below his left shoulder. Things were going better than he expected. 


End file.
